By Lene Andersen. Health care writer, RA and disability advocate, wheelchair user and camera nut. Author of Your Life with Rheumatoid Arthritis: Tools for Managing Treatment, Side Effects and Pain

Monday, July 26, 2010

Life with Codeine

I'm finishing breakfast, about to take my morning round of drugs when I notice that I need to add some more of one of my painkillers to the Box o’ Meds I keep on my dining room table (because it's a handy reminder to take my meds with meals). I also notice that my tea equivalent (hot water with a small slice of lemon- really good for the stomach) is no longer hot. The plan is to put the cup with some cold water in the microwave, then go to the bathroom and get the painkillers, take my meds, then go back to get the hot water.

This is not how it works out, because when you have high pain levels and take enough of the really good meds for long enough time, things can get a little fuzzy.

I take the cup and wander off, mentally back at the computer where I'm in the middle of writing something, stop and drink the mostly cold water left in the cup while still mentally writing something, then look up and connect to where I'm at. Which is by the bathroom sink, facing a Lene in the mirror who's looking at me with a mix of wha…? anddisdain. Because I was supposed to be making a cup of tea (OK, hot water with lemon) and why the hell am I in the bathroom? Sure, there's water there, but no microwave and no bowl with lemon slices, either. The Lene in the mirror makes a face at me and snorts derisively (she really is quite rude) and I turn around and move purposely towards the kitchen, focused on the task at hand.

When I do finally make it to the kitchen, there is part of my brain that keeps niggling at why on earth I went to the bathroom, slightly concerned that perhaps I have completely lost it. And it is not until I have rinsed out my cup, added more water, put the cup in the microwave, pressed the appropriate buttons to select a particular length of time for it to do its thing, gone back to the dining room table to get my plate and spoon so I can take them into the kitchen and rinse them off while the tea (OK water) finishes and look at the Box o’ Meds that I remember why I went to the bathroom.

So off I go, back to the bathroom, very deliberately not looking in the mirror because I have a feeling that the Lene who lives there is right now wearing the kind of facial expression that would be counterproductive to my self-esteem.

8 comments:

Marie
said...

There is a Sniglet (a word that is not in the dictionary but should be) for your first trip to the bathroom: "destinesia." I have those all the time, but because I am older than you, I just call them "senior moments."

Destinesia. Perfect! And dang, I've been a senior then since I was old enough to have a baby to keep me up all night so I couldn't think straight the next day. That would have been at the ripe old age of 23.